


A Loving Presence

by DancerInTheMoonlight



Series: Blaine Anderson Is The Vampire Slayer [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Bad Puns, Blaine Anderson Is The Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Fluff, Friendship/Love, I Ship It, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), M/M, POV Blaine Anderson, Slayer!Blaine, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, Watcher!Sue, btvs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 06:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19126345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancerInTheMoonlight/pseuds/DancerInTheMoonlight
Summary: Ever since they sealed the deal that night when Blaine sang for their ‘anniversary’, Blaine had been hoping the right words would magically assemble themselves inside his mouth and that he would just have open it for them to flutter out.





	A Loving Presence

Since he could remember, Blaine slept badly during storms. Maybe this was the restlessness in his Slayer blood, but he could not understand people who casually hit the sack with all hell breaking loose outside. His mother fell into that category. When thunderstorms raged, Blaine, on the other hand, could not help but be ten times more alert and receptive. Blaine used to figure it was because he was secretly predestined to be a wussy bundle of nerves, but it turned out that he had been exceptionally attuned to demonic presences.

The windows shook and rattled with the force of thunder hitting the ground somewhere not far away. Like a thousand speaking voices, the incessant rain hit the glass and the roof louder in its absence, and the wind was booming with a dull howl, forceful against anything in its way. It was the voice-like quality that wigged people out, that touch of eerie likeness in the chaos, the force people could do nothing but endure.

Storms were great for some demons, because they opened up a space for travel, sort of an intra-dimensional freeway which enabled them to pop from one place to another in matter of seconds. It wasn’t too dangerous, since most demonic presences still required an invite, but gave Blaine major wiggings nonetheless. To Blaine it felt like a rowdy crowd huddled at your front door. And back door. And all the windows. Waiting for you to let them all in.

Blaine would have been asleep by now if he could get to it, but he felt so tense, as if his usual live wire self had been multiplied and trapped in a body which was insufficient to hold them all.

He needed to work off that energy. He didn’t like slaying in storms, though. Reading usually helped, mental strain sometimes even more efficiently exhausting than the physical, but the power went out five minutes ago and all Blaine could do was stare into darkness.

If he lay too still he swore he could feel his body hum. Outside, the wind raged, lightning crashed and crackled.

Blaine wished he could just reach out and attach himself to something, like a power plug to a power socket, and find an outlet for this weird funk. Placing cold palms around his overheated neck, Blaine tried to imagine the energy leaving his body, evaporating into the dark room. 

Not unlike sucking, the thought fluttered around his brain, and Blaine couldn’t even bring himself to find it repulsive in his desperation for release. His hands travelled to his chest, slowly pressing down his body, as if they might find the source of this restless stupor and force it out with a quick tug.

Blaine wished he had some sort of absorbing hands. Cool, firm, long-fingered, absorbing hands, on his face, in his hair, down his throat, up his shoulder, over his waist, through his fingers, at his hips, under his knee, across his thighs, around his—

Another crash of thunder and Blaine jumped at the contact. He closed his eyes, trying not to think too clearly about someone else’s hands helping out where his own were currently busy touching. He shouldn’t be doing this. Well, not _touching_ himself, obviously. (He could imagine a familiar leer complementary to that assessment.) What he shouldn’t be doing is dragging Sebastian into it, not on a night like this. The thought made Blaine press his lips against a sound trying to escape his mouth.

They had been seeing each other in that way for a couple of months now and, for a sex demon, Sebastian was still relatively skittish. Not that Blaine could blame him. Thralling was a dangerous thing. But so was unrestrained, desperate _want_.

Blaine knew of this first-hand because he still remembered experiencing the sensation for the first time. It had been that night before his sixteenth birthday. He left Tina at their Halloween party to walk a bit and clear his head (he had played the Slayer card so well that she reluctantly let him). It had seemed like a marvelous idea at the time, right before the panic attack hit and the Sebastian Smythe happened upon him at the graveyard, which had been equally thrilling and embarrassing on Blaine’s part. Blaine remembered that night a little too well.

_Unease was slowly creeping back into him as they approached the club, Scandals. He felt as if venturing into an uncharted territory and, eyes fixed on the back of Sebastian Smythe’s leather jacket, he couldn’t help but think it was a bad, bad idea. Smythe pushed through the crowd and smirked over his shoulder before entering the building as if it were an everyday thing, squeezing them past the bouncers like it was nothing. Not that Scandals was in any way a prestigious venue reserved for the chosen elite who could afford head-turning luxuries, but it did have a line to wait in. Blaine was aware he didn’t look too fresh-faced for his actual age –due to an ever-developing Slayer physique, he assumed— but he still had that gullible glow and a look in his eyes that made people hold him in lines and ask for an ID wherever he went. Sebastian Smythe, on the other hand, glided through public entrances like a pro, keeping Blaine close behind._

_The thump of the bass was louder inside and Blaine felt it banging on his insides like a huge vibrating hammer. The place was packed with dressed-up in Halloween costumes. With no mask on his face, going as himself (as the Slayer, his brain supplied, keeping an eye on Sebastian Smythe), Blaine felt out of place. He also felt light-years away from his curfew—but how was he supposed to let this guy wreak havoc on the one night of collective peace? Blaine was willing to sacrifice his non-existent social life for that small annual moment of serenity. (Although, he did hope Tine would come up with something to cover for him if his mom happened to call, even as he was relying on his mom being too happy that he had friends and plans to try to sabotage them in any way.)_

_There was a loud intake of breath next to him and Blaine watched as Sebastian Smythe, ironically, closed his eyes to take in their surroundings. The air felt stuffy after the pleasant chill outside._

_“You can always tell a place’s atmosphere by taking a whiff,” Smythe said, moving towards the bar and indicating Blaine should follow (as if he wouldn’t have followed closely, otherwise). Well, maybe Sebastian Smythe could, but Blaine could only tell that he was suffocating. He observed as Smythe proceeded to order something for himself, seemingly without a thought to spare, and then requesting something else, after a calculating look at Blaine. The bartender, posing as a particularly scantily clad Devil, smiled slightly and nodded. Blaine frowned. Sebastian Smythe downed his drink in one gulp and made to leave the bar._

_“Where are you going?” Blaine immediately tensed, not really clear on what he would (or even could) do if Sebastian Smythe suddenly decided to go on the rampage and break the Council Treaty. He still found it difficult to believe that a vampire would be interested predominantly in sexual activities. Blaine felt his cheeks burn with the image of Smythe’s vivid descriptions from earlier outside. No doubt, the vampire could sense it, too. But this was not a good time to waver in resolve, so Blaine held a cool gaze (he hoped) to Sebastian Smythe’s smug face._

_“I can hardly score anything tonight if I keep myself glued to the bar with my back turned,” he scoffed, but then paused, twisting to look at himself from behind. “On second thought. . .” he pretended to consider his posterior –because Blaine couldn’t seriously believe that anyone could be that self-absorbed— and its potential, but ended up shaking his head against the idea, as if to shake off a silly thought._

_Blaine spluttered but Sebastian Smythe beat him to any coherent sound, dropping a firm hand on his shoulder and saying: “I’m just going to check out the dance floor for a while, how’s that for harmless, Killer?”_

_Now, deep down, Blaine knew that it was meant as a gesture of reassurance, and not an attempt on his life. Still, as he clasped Sebastian Smythe’s wrist in a painful maneuver which might have immediately broken an average person’s hand, milliseconds after the vampire’s hand made contact with the surface of his coat, Blaine was expecting all the reactions on the receiving party’s face – surprise, pain, anger, apprehension, and a hint of exhilaration (well, not the hint of exhilaration, mixed with an indication of pleasure, which Blaine did not want to think of causing, here, now, in this way, or ever). What Blaine was not expecting, however, was the skin of Sebastian Smythe’s hand to be tingly. And warm._

_(Here’s the thing. A vampire’s hands, like the rest of it, are supposed to be deadly cold. This feature was especially noticeable on the places where body heat tended to pool in regular, living organisms – such as the neck, and other pulse points, like a person’s wrist. The only reason Blaine firmly held this intimate knowledge was due to the fact that he, on Sue’s insistence he had practice, dusted a fair few in this manner, by wringing their necks to rip the head off, even though he preferred the stake if he had to re-dead the undead at all.)_

_Fueled by experience, Blaine did the logical thing and put his free palm on the juncture where Sebastian Smythe’s neck met his jaw, flat where a pulse point should have been, fingers gripping the back of his neck and thumb pressing on his cheekbone._

_Sebastian Smythe must have realized that Blaine wasn’t trying to decapitate him, but nevertheless went very still, patient as a saint while Blaine marveled at the warm skin under his palms for a tense, infinite moment. If they hadn’t been actively interacting for the past hour, Blaine would have been convinced the vampire had just drained someone completely._

_Only, there was also this nagging feeling of doubt that the soft tingle spreading from the points of their contact had anything to do with borrowed blood. This felt alive, and Sebastian’s. Blaine found himself gripping harder, fingers travelling down the curve of Sebastian’s neck, unable to stop—_

_“Here’s your drink, sugar,” the un(der)dressed bartender put his drink down noisily and Blaine jumped, letting go._

_“Th-anks,” he stuttered as the devil went about his business, sporting a sly grin, and when he flipped his head back around, Sebastian Smythe was gone. Blaine was immediately on his feet, ready to surge after him, but he reluctantly slumped back to his seat when he detected a familiar lean frame, already owning the dancefloor, though never leaving his direct line of sight._

_Blaine sipped on his drink, finding it extremely sweet, but somehow not unpleasantly so – only slightly short of actually nauseating. It was a precarious balance. When he asked the bartender what it was called, the guy all but purred its name was ‘Sweet Sixteen’ and offered to make him another. Blaine just awkwardly raised his half-full glass and returned to watching the dance floor, hoping his face wasn’t the same shade of pink as the drink in his hand._

_Sebastian Smythe was dancing in a crowd like it was the most natural thing in the world, adapting to the mass of moving bodies as if the people he pressed against and who pressed against him were organic extensions of the same dynamic entity. Blaine had never seen anybody move like that. It was almost as transfixing as touching his skin. He was currently dancing with someone dressed in Supergirl costume, and as his hands touched their hips, Blaine imagined for a fleeting second he was there, instead._

How does one become selfish?

By wanting something for themselves. And Blaine wanted. He had wanted then, and he wanted now. That night had been the first time he touched himself with anything resembling another person in mind. He didn’t even stop to think about it, didn’t even consider it might become an issue, up until he realized that this started right after Sebastian Smythe landed into his life.

Touching himself at this very moment felt like delightful torture. Blaine’s own grip tightened as he imagined the grip of those hands.

Their familiar dance across the vast expanse of skin and muscle.

_“Why don’t you go dance?” the bartender was back, leaning into his space over the countertop._

_“Who, me? I—” Blaine just shook his head and smiled uncertainly, not knowing how to tell him what happened last time he danced close to another guy. The bartender looked as if he was about to start convincing him, but then Sebastian Smythe was suddenly there, looking all lovely (lovely? the drink in Blaine’s hands was indeed too pink) and danced-out, and asking for another shot._

_“Hey,” he smiled, leaning next to Blaine. Not too close, but close enough not to shout. “Do you wanna dance?”_

_“Uh— with you?” Blaine thought he should check. That was not how things usually transpired between himself and the demon population._

_“No, Killer, with the shirtless horn-y guy,” Sebastian Smythe scoffed jerking his head at the bartender pouring his shot. “ **Yes** , me.” Blaine just stared at him. “I’m not gonna make any moves on you,” Sebastian Smythe assured him. “C’mon, it’s your birthday, you said so yourself. Enjoy it.” _

_“And how do you suppose any of this is enjoyable?” Blaine snapped back, raising his chin a little bit, just to be defiant. Which only earned him another eye roll._

_“Please, I can see on your little kicked puppy-dog face that you’re dying to be out there,” the vampire jerked his head towards the dance floor. “Besides, you liked the drink, am I right?” He downed his newly-arrived shot in one go and smiled knowingly._

_“Fine,” Blaine harrumphed and stood up. “No touching,” he concluded with a firm look before taking off towards the center of the room._

It had been delightful. Slowly, Blaine had let all the initial apprehension be pumped away on the pulse of the beat as the music flowed through him. They hadn’t been touching, then. But oh, how Blaine had wanted to.

Thinking back on it, who knows where that night might have taken them if Tina hadn’t frantically called to say that she only barely covered for him with his mother and wanting to know if he was ok. And if somebody hadn’t drugged Supergirl a bit later on, attempting to perform some ancient ritual, which Blaine only barely managed to prevent before calling the police and then calling it a night.

The unusual sensation of Sebastian’s skin kept nagging at Blaine’s brain so he asked Sue about it. Well, not so much asked directly as made an inconspicuous attempt to fish for general information on the kind of vampire Sebastian might be. He had been so wrong in hoping Sue would be too distracted to take note of his peculiar interest, as he casually dropped a question on ‘incubi’ (and peculiarly electrifying skin powers which made you tingle and fill you with all kinds of excessive energy begging to be spent) while filling her in on the events of All Hallows’ Eve. Blaine remembered how it made her pause and narrow her eyes, asking a mortifying _“Do I need to give you a sex talk, Anderson?”_ in a very straight face. It had taken all he had in him for Blaine to prevent his mind revisiting the previous late-night session with his hand then and there, for fear that Sue may develop some creepy ability to read people’s minds.

It had not been helpful that he had soon after developed thinking of sex and Sebastian in the same context. Well, it was proving to be very helpful _now_ , Blaine figured, a smirk enveloping his hitched breaths.

He should probably stop. Only, it wasn’t in Blaine’s nature, to stop.

(Maybe that’s why he’d been Chosen.)

A soft sigh left his mouth as he forced himself to slow down.

Blaine didn’t learn anything more about the true power of Sebastian’s touch until sometime later. It came up in one of their (many) odd, combat-driven conversations. Thinking back on it, Blaine might have even been a little jealous.

 _Sebastian Smythe had a girl turning boneless in his arms in an alley behind a popular bar. In a true Slayer fashion, Blaine decided to hit first and ask questions later. He was about to stake Sebastian, resenting himself for ever willingly hanging out with that guy, when the girl they were fighting over came to and walked up to them, screaming for somebody to call the police. (It took Blaine an incredibly long moment to realize she meant_ for him _.)_

_“Killer, wait!” Blaine heard hurried footsteps and turned around to ward off the unwanted stalker._

_“What do you want? Besides to become dust!”_

_Sebastian Smythe came to a halt with his pals facing Blaine in a gesture of surrender. Blaine scoffed._

_“What were you doing to that girl?” he demanded, stepping forward, still high on adrenaline._

_“Nothing—” he held up his hands further when Blaine opened his mouth to protest “—she didn’t_ want _me to do. I told you, Killer. I don’t bite people without consent.”_

_“Well, it didn’t look like nothing,” Blaine spat back, thinking about how the girl all but collapsed to the ground, “so cut the crap and tell the truth.”_

_Sebastian Smythe hesitated._

_“I—I’m different. Let me show you.” He took a step towards Blaine._

_“Don’t come near me.”_

_“Look. I didn’t bite her,” Sebastian repeated but kept his place. He extended a hand and waited for Blaine to approach on his own. They stood like that for a very long moment. Blaine spoke first._

_“How are you different?”_

_“I’m a cambion.”_

_“You’re a --- what-ion?” Blaine scrunched his face, forgetting the seriousness of the situation for a second, and Sebastian’s mouth twitched in amusement._

_“A cambion,” he articulated slowly. “You’ve felt it before. Just... Take my hand, Killer.” His wiggled his fingers, as if that was all the incentive Blaine needed._

_“I swear, if you try anything…” Blaine trailed off, taking a step and slowly extending his own hand._

_“Stake-heart-dust, I know,” Sebastian sing-songed and then gently grasped Blaine’s palm with his._

_Blaine was overtaken with a familiar sensation. The slow tingle, a soft caress of something foreign but incredibly pleasant; an enveloping and soothing but also a restless something, like a warm caress on a lazy morning, like a frantic need to move your body or you else might burst, like anticipation of wonderful things, like the power to do whatever you feel. It was an addictive and a devilishly alluring sensation, not unlike its source of green eyes and long limbs and quirky smiles, and Blaine felt like letting go of himself completely. An unexpected want, only slightly clashing with the desire to pull on the hand touching his and dominate its owner. He decided on the latter and was about to do just that, but then Sebastian Smythe toned down whatever he’d been doing, and Blaine felt his mind clear. He jerked, leaning away from fair skin and green eyes._

_Sebastian Smythe let him go._

_“You are going to explain this properly,” Blaine said after he took a moment to recover from whatever the hell that was. “Meet me tomorrow at 7 at the Lima Bean.” He was going for brusque, but judging by the glint in Sebastian Smythe’s eyes, he was not succeeding._

_“If you wanted to ask me out, you could have just said so, Killer.”_

_“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s_ not _a date,” Blaine snarked back instantly. “7 sharp, or I’ll stake you without question next time I see you.”_

_Blaine started to walk away. He attempted to mask the need to get away with a threat but Sebastian Smythe wasn’t fooled, judging by his cheeky farewell (“Whatever you say, Killer!”)._

Needless to say, Blaine spent some extra time ‘pondering’ incubi after that. Or at least Sebastian. He was very careful not to touch him – not because he was disgusted, but because it felt like an intrusion. Something he – at the time—had not been ready for.

Unlike right now, when Blaine was yearning for every imaginable intrusion. The rain was still beating viciously outside, drowned out by the pulse throbbing in his ears and the heat pulsing in his hand. A devious, angelically beautiful face floated to the surface of his mind’s eye.

Everything skyrocketed.

There was yet another crash of thunder and Blaine jolted forward with a surprised “ _Oh!_ ” and everything was mindless pleasure which lasted for moments, or hours, or days. Blaine could do this for days.

Still, the afterglow felt lonely. It wasn’t like before, now that Blaine definitely knew what it felt like to have another body beside his own. He got up and looked around.

He shouldn’t feel guilty for imagining having Sebastian in that way, Blaine thought as he padded towards his bathroom in the dark. He shouldn’t feel—

“You’re thinking very loud thoughts, Killer.”

Blaine yelped as a soft voice spoke across the fading rain and the quiet.

“Don’t _do_ that! Oh God,” Blaine leaned against the bathroom door, “I told you—” panting like he’d just run a mile, “—not to— at least—warn me first.”

“You were busy. I felt it would have been rude to interrupt.” He sounded oh-so-smug.

Blaine felt his face burn. Valiantly, he held the steady green gaze of one Sebastian Smythe. His expression was torn between amused and something else Blaine wanted to explore—sometime when he finished embarrassing the life out of himself, he thought.

“You…watched?” Even if he hadn’t, which Blaine figured he must have, his supernatural senses probably painted an incredibly detailed picture.

Sebastian smiled a very slow smile, but made no further comment.

“Wow, that’s incredibly creepy,” Blaine tried, but Sebastian only smiled wider.

“Like I said, Killer. You were thinking _very_ loudly. Might as well screamed my name.” For a second he seemed to be fighting an impulse to reach out. Then he relaxed and shrugged his shoulders. “I just happened to be in the area.”

Right. Blaine didn’t believe that one bit. Sebastian nodded towards the bathroom.

“Will you stay?” Blaine asked, hoping it didn’t make him sound too desperate.

“Until you fall asleep.”

“And what if I don’t want to sleep?”

“Blaine…”

“Okay, fine,” Blaine sighed and disappeared into the bathroom with a quick peck on Sebastian’s lips. He poked his back through the door not a second after. “It really is fine.” He said, wanting to make sure Sebastian got it right. As per usual, for his efforts, Blaine was rewarded with an eye-roll.

“I _know_.” But there was also a happy smile. “Now go away so you can come back already.” Blaine smiled back and closed the door.

If Blaine was being honest, he wasn’t feeling tired but he did feel kind of sated. The storm outside easing up also contributed to feeling more like a living organism and less like livewire.

This was a big deal for Sebastian. He wouldn’t push it. He _wouldn’t._

Blaine frowned at his own reflection in the dark bathroom, almost wishing that his very own demonic presence waiting for him behind that door had arrived sooner and actually joined in. Maybe then Blaine could get him to let go and feel the familiar tingle. He shook the thought away. It had to be Sebastian’s choice. It had to be voluntarily given.

After some very awkward and borderline ridiculous situations, Blaine finally explained his doubts about touching to Sebastian, who first laughed for about solid 10 minutes and then kindly (or, in Blaine’s personal opinion, _not_ so kindly) explained to Blaine that thralling wasn’t an automatic response and that it was even less likely to happen if he wasn’t actively seeking to thrall someone. Sebastian confirmed that Blaine might still feel some micro-effects but that nobody could, however, take away Blaine’s free will without intense and unwavering focus on this sole accomplishment.

Blaine remembered he had relaxed around Sebastian a little more after that. Sebastian also vaguely indicated that the less invested you are, the less impact an attempt at thralling may have. Blaine had been so naively relieved, right up to the point when he himself became _very_ invested in this relationship, and the irony was not lost on him.

It dawned on Blaine, sometime upon realizing that he had been actively attempting (and, at the time, failing) to seduce Sebastian, that Sebastian actually valued their funky, friendly, _flirty_ Slayer-demon relationship enough to treat Blaine’s (in hindsight, probably highly unlikely) advances as light-hearted teasing. It was what they had always done. And Sebastian made an effort to repeatedly point out how he had a thing for the real Blaine, not for a thralled one. When it came to Blaine, he said, thralling was less than thrilling.

Blaine grinned to himself, Sebastian had actually uttered those exact words. He turned on the tap, letting water run over his hands.

Even as the Slayer, it only took Blaine so much to realize that the feeling was mutual, that he genuinely liked whoever Sebastian really was, that is. It had been a scary and an exciting thought, and one Blaine didn’t know how to voice at all. He was generally at a loss so as to which combination of words would make Sebastian understand (instead of, say, call the whole thing off).

Ever since they sealed the deal that night when Blaine sang for their ‘anniversary’, Blaine had been hoping the right words would magically assemble themselves inside his mouth and that he would just have open it for them to flutter out.

He thought they _did_ flutter out at some point. But Sebastian insisted on acting as if it never happened. Blaine wondered if it had been too soon.

Turning the tap off, he went back to his bedroom, where Sebastian was lounging on the bed. He was a picture of relaxation, eyes closed and head resting against the headboard, the rest of him coiled around pillows and covers as if to emphasize the space he already owned.

“Finally. I thought I’d have to check up on you,” he said, not opening his eyes.

“I was in there for barely five minutes,” Blaine huffed, climbing onto the bed beside him.

“Too long,” Sebastian replied just to be annoying. Blaine snorted.

“Your freaky demon limbs—are what’s too long—Sebastian, _move over_!”

Blaine was struggling to claim some space on the bed, when Sebastian suddenly became far more accommodating and responsive, staring at him with gleeful eyes.

“Hmm. You know what _else_ is pretty long?”

“No!” Blaine backtracked, even as he laughed at Sebastian’s silly and exaggerated eyebrow-wiggle. “ _Don’t_ say it!” He threatened with his index finger. “I swear, if you—” However, Sebastian didn’t say anything else, but leaned in to kiss him. It started out silly but turned heated, and with the lack of noise outside, Blaine had a passing thought that perhaps they were being too loud. It was a _very_ passing one, though. Especially when Sebastian did _that_ with his mouth.

“Your mother is down the hall, Killer,” Sebastian scolded like he’d suddenly grown a conscience.

“Like that ever stopped you before,” Blaine retorted, but to be fair, they never really have done it with his mom practically in the next room. Sebastian _could_ make it work. And even though Blaine accepted that right now was not the time to go there, he didn’t have to be happy about it. “Fine.” He didn’t particularly care if he sounded like a petulant child. Sebastian giggled. “ _Ha-ha_ ,” Blaine mimicked, even as he let Sebastian snuggle up to him. “Laugh it up lover boy, but _quietly_.”

Sebastian let his face rest on the outline of Blaine’s shoulder, his lips touching Blaine’s collarbone and his palm resting on the other side of Blaine’s neck. The touch was soothing and intimate and just right. Blaine relaxed into it, as a trickle of something familiar made his way from Sebastian’s fingertips into the skin underneath them.

 _Soon_ , Blaine thought.

And by the way he felt Sebastian’s lips move against his collarbone, he was convinced they were thinking the same thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Not proof-read (sorry guys!) but comments are, as you know, life! :) Thank you for reading.
> 
>  
> 
> (also, soon to be joined by a small ficlet to explain Blaine's (and Sebastian's) problem here a bit more)


End file.
